


jewels of the empire

by CutiePi



Series: crimson as the dawn (black eagles route) [5]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Class reunion, Established Relationship, M/M, No Spoilers, Post-Black Eagles Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pure Unadulterated Fluff, Soft!!!, ive never been beta'd in my life and i DONT intend to start now, no beta we die like Glenn, this is just me loving on hubert for like 5000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 17:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21103241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CutiePi/pseuds/CutiePi
Summary: Hubert has a night full of surprises.





	jewels of the empire

**Author's Note:**

> this was stupid hard to write but im actually pretty pleased with it so! here
> 
> i recommend reading at least the previous ferdibert-centric fics in this series but i think it works without them too? but the others will enhance the Experience
> 
> post-crimson flower route, no spoilers. gender-neutral byleth is mentioned like 3 times and doesnt make an appearance. i dont think theres any other relevant information so uh yeah lets go

Hubert awakens to thin sunlight wavering through the windows, a warm embrace holding him hostage, and Ferdinand’s lips, light as a feather, pressed to the back of his neck. 

“Ferdinand,” he says, voice raspy with sleep. His companion hums, the sound buzzing against his skin. “Darling,” he tries, and that gets Ferdinand to sigh, burying his face against Hubert’s back. Hot, Hubert realizes smugly—it was still all too easy to make Ferdinand blush. He tries to turn over, to face him, but Ferdinand squeezes tight around his chest, holding him in place. Hubert can’t help but laugh, just a little. 

“Feeling a bit feisty this morning, aren’t we?” he teases. “I suppose stealing my bed was not enough for you, and now you must take my morning, too.”

Ferdie clears his throat. “Well,” he says, pout evident in his voice. “You got back so late last night. I certainly didn’t get your evening.”

“My apologies.” This time, Ferdinand lets him roll over, and he takes a moment to catch his breath—in the early morning light, with the last traces of sleep etched into his features, his blush still fading, his haired fanned out on Hubert’s pillows, he’s absolutely exquisite. He doesn’t catch the impulse to brush a stray lock from his face in time, not that it matters—Ferdinand hums and leans into the touch. “Perhaps I should make it up to you,” he murmurs. “I do feel so terrible about breaking promises.”

Ferdinand closes his eyes, sighs, basking. Then, without warning, he’s pulling back, away from Hubert’s touch and out of his bed entirely. Damn it all. “Time enough for that later,” he says briskly, as if his ears aren’t crimson red. “I’m afraid the Minister of Agricultural Affairs demands an audience with me.”

“Again?” Hubert frowns, dragging himself out of bed as well, watching Ferdinand cross to the dresser and pull out one of the few outfits he leaves in the room. “What does he want this time?”

Ferdinand sighs, heavily. “Our  _ dear _ Baron Falke is complaining that the soil in his region has yet to recover from the damage done to it during the war  _ three years ago _ , so he cannot  _ possibly _ meet his grain quotas without,” his mouth twists in disapproval as he buttons his shirt, “financial assistance.”

Hubert frowns. “A blatant lie.”

“Obvious! But of course I have to meet with him  _ anyway _ , or he’ll bring his nonsense to Edelgard, which is the last thing she needs.” Having pulled on his shirt and trousers, he moves to the mirror to fuss with his hair. “And  _ why _ his petty concerns have to go to the office of the Prime Minister is  _ beyond _ me–”

“Yes, I have to ask as well. Shouldn’t he address his concerns to Count Hevring?” Hubert moves across the room to pluck the hairbrush from Ferdinand’s hand and set about taming his hair himself. Ferdinand sighs, his shoulders relaxing instantly.

“Count Hevring is still preoccupied with training his eventual replacement,” Ferdinand answers, a frown etching back onto his face. “He won’t be able to return to Enbarr for another few months, at least.”

“So he’s still using that as an excuse?”

“In fairness, we  _ did _ allow his only heir to abandon his title and elope.” Ferdie sighs. “Though at times like these I’m almost envious of him.”

Hubert snorts, beginning to work Ferdinand’s hair into a braid. “A life of leisure doesn’t suit you, von Aegir,” he says. “You’d be back begging for your title within the week.” Ferdinand hums in agreement. “In any case,” he adds, voice dipping low, sinister. “I’d be more than happy to take care of Baron Falke for you.”

Ferdinand pouts at him in the mirror. “ _ Hubert _ ,” he scolds, “it is far too early in the morning to be so morbid.”

He chuckles. “I like to get a head start.” Finishing the braid, he drops a kiss on the crown of Ferdinand’s head. “There, love, all set.”

Ferdie turns to face him, still frowning with false disappointment. “Dreadful man,” he says. “How does anyone put up with you?”   
  
It’s been long enough that the question doesn’t sting, coming from him. “I ask myself that all the time.”

Ferdinand studies him for a few moments, until the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth wins out and his entire face softens. “Must be because you’re so handsome.”

Hubert smiles, feels his face go warm, but he can’t help but joke, “I believe that’s Her Majesty’s stated reason, yes.”

Ferdie laughs, sharp and clear in the way that signifies it took him by surprise. “Oh, you joke, but you’d be  _ humiliated _ if I broached the subject with her. ‘Ferdinand’,” he says, dropping his voice down several octaves lower than Hubert’s voice has  _ ever _ gone, “‘how  _ dare _ you speak to Her Majesty about such things. Don’t you know we should be prostrate on the ground before her–’”

“Oh, enough,” he growls, unable to get the desired heat behind his words.

“-one moment, I’m almost done. ‘We should be kissing her boots, as her right and left hand–’”

“Really,” he huffs. “I’ll poison your tea and leave you in the gardens, don’t tempt me.”

“Hubert,” he gasps, scandalized. “Come, now, the  _ impropriety _ .”

“If you cared about impropriety,” he says, arching an eyebrow, “you’d stop spending three nights a week in another man’s bedchambers.”

Ferdinand drops his voice to a low murmur, overly confident even as his ears go pink. “If it bothered you, you’d stop encouraging me.”

Hubert blinks slowly at him, lets him get away with smugly grinning at him while he composes himself. “Are you  _ certain _ the minister can’t wait?”

Ferdinand laughs, leaving Hubert to recover by the mirror while he grabs his boots and sets about lacing them up. “I’m starting to suspect,” he says, full of false disappointment, “that this entire relationship has just been a years-long operation set into motion by Edelgard to destroy my political career for good.”

Hubert carefully schools his face into blank impassivity. “Damn, I’ve been found out,” he deadpans.

Ferdie laughs again, straightening up. “A little late, perhaps, but I figured it out eventually.” Hubert can’t stand to be so far from him anymore, so he crosses to him under the pretense of helping him into his jacket. “Thank you, dear,” he coos, turning to face Hubert. Another impulse he acts on–-placing one bare hand on Ferdinand’s cheek, letting him close his eyes and lean into the touch. “How do I look?”

“Marvelous,” he breathes, feeling his heart jump into his throat when Ferdinand turns his head to press a kiss to his palm. “As always, love.”

Ferdinand peers at him through half-lidded eyes. “Flatterer,” he murmurs–-Hubert can feel his lips form the words against his skin.  _ As if _ , he thinks,  _ as if I could invent any of this _ . With a sigh that makes Hubert’s skin tingle, he withdraws, just slightly, letting Hubert’s hand find a home on his shoulder instead. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Hubert shakes his head, regretful. “Apologies, my dear, but I have work to do, and I’ll likely be busy–”

“Hubert,” Ferdie says, smiling softly. “Hubert, Hubert. Don’t you know it’s impolite to refuse an invitation outright?” Hubert raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, but it’s more to hear his love’s laughter, quiet and gentle. “It’s my fault–-I failed to communicate it wasn’t a request.  _ I’ll see you tonight _ .” Hubert frowns, prepares to protest that as much as he might want to leave work for tomorrow for a night with Ferdinand it’s simply too important for him to just drop on a whim–-Ferdinand, once again, predicts this train of thought and forestalls him with a raised hand. “Emperor’s orders, Hubert.”

“Is it really,” he drawls, “or is this yet another excuse you’ll apologize for later?”

Ferdinand frowns at him. “It  _ is _ , truly, what the emperor told me. In fact, you’ll see her tonight, as well.” Well, that’s unexpected. He tilts his head to encourage Ferdinand to continue, and he grins. “We’ve got plans, Hubert,” he says. “A night at the opera.”

* * *

Hubert runs late, which is to say he intended to ride to the opera house with Ferdinand and Her Majesty but work keeps him too long for any chance of that. He spends the ride adjusting his wardrobe, given how hurriedly he’d dressed–-he doesn’t particularly care if he looked pristine, like his companions surely did, but Ferdie tends to complain about him “showing proper respect for the arts” or some such nonsense, so he makes an effort. He checks his watch as the carriage rolls up to the theater and sighs–-the performance isn’t scheduled for another 20 minutes, at least, which means Ferdinand dragged Edelgard out probably an hour before curtain. As Hubert clambers out of the coach, he reminds himself that Ferdinand’s enthusiasm is  _ endearing _ , no matter how much it might inconvenience the emperor, and he steps into the lobby to meet his companions–

But instead of two sharply-dressed familiar faces meeting him, there’s- _ several _ more.

Bernadetta is enough of a surprise–-though she resides at the castle in Enbarr, and she’s certainly gotten better at venturing out of her room, she’s a recluse at heart, and convincing her to come to such a public venue is a feat. She still looks a bit unsure of herself, but her posture is almost straight, and she’s not looking at the floor, and Hubert feels pride stir in his chest.

Next to her (and a far bigger surprise) is Caspar, looking not-quite himself in a nice suit but much more himself in every other regard. He’s got new scars on his hands, his tan is deeper, and his grin is brighter than ever. Beside him, as always, Linhardt yawns, one hand holding a champagne glass and the other in the crook of Caspar’s elbow. He looks more or less the same, if a little sunburnt.

Beside Edelgard, Petra tells a story he can’t quite make out, gesturing animatedly. It’s immediately clear that returning to her home has done her good–-there’s a brightness in her eyes that he barely recognizes, her hair is styled in elaborate braids, and if he’s not mistaken she’s gotten more prayer marks tattooed on her skin. She’s bright, shining under the candlelight, and something about it catches him off guard–

Hubert’s heart swells in his chest at the sight of them, all together again for the first time in  _ years _ . They all look so happy, and he thinks, for a moment,  _ This is what we fought for _ . The thought takes him by surprise, but-he can’t really avoid it. He fought for a day when they could stand together and laugh, for the sight of people who had grown up too fast with the weight lifted from their shoulders, for lazy mornings and coffee breaks and nights at the opera. Maybe he didn’t know, in the midst of it, but he knows now with startling clarity. These were the people he fought for, to protect, with the goal of handing the world over to them and letting them live in it, free. And after years, he’s seeing with his own eyes that he’s succeeded, that the blood on his hands–-on  _ all _ their hands–-was not spilled for nothing.

The wave of emotion stops him up short, and it gives Bernadetta time to notice him. She waves a bit, with a tiny smile that belies how satisfied she is, and her attention makes Petra turn. At the sight of him, she yells, “Hubert!” so loudly it echoes in the lobby, but he doesn’t have time to react–-she runs to him and bodily  _ lifts _ him into a hug. This is yet another shock to his system, and he’s unable to react until his feet are back on the floor and Petra’s pulled away, just enough to rest her hands on his shoulders and grin at him.

Hubert blinks a few times to regain his bearings. “Petra,” he says at last, meeting her gaze, and he can’t stop the warmth in his tone or the slow smile sliding across his face. “This is-a surprise. I–” Saints, he’s a wreck. The words keep sticking in the back of his throat. “I had no idea you would be in Enbarr.”

Petra smiles and bounces a bit. “That is the idea! We have been planning to take you by surprise. Did you really not have knowledge?”

“Thank goodness,” Edelgard says, joining them. Her eyes glimmer with mirth–-she’s happy too, he thinks. Good. She deserves this. “Ferdinand had to work so hard to make sure that damn  _ staff _ of yours didn’t reveal our plans too soon.”

“Heya, Hubert!” Caspar says, also too loud, giving him a hearty smack on the back. “How you been?”

“Lurking in the shadows, I’m sure,” Linhardt drawls, but he’s giving Hubert an assessing look, making sure he’s in good shape. Hubert returns his stare, lifting his chin defiantly. “Causing trouble for anyone who doesn’t submit to Her Conflagrant Majesty.”

“Oh, Linhardt, do not be picking fights! It is good to have us back together.” Petra gives him another brief hug, and he indulges in returning it, before she releases him and gives him some more space.

Ferdinand fills that space easily, slotting himself against Hubert like he was born to fit there. “You are surprised, aren’t you, darling? You’d tell me if all my sneaking around for the past few months had been in vain.”

“Of course,” he says gravely. “I-truly did not expect this.” They all smile at him, and he tries not to flinch away from being the center of attention. “Though it seems the strike force is missing a member. Where’s–”

“Dorothea!” Bernadetta pipes up. She slips up to him and attaches an embroidered flower to his lapel, though she still doesn’t meet his gaze. “She’s making a surprise return to the stage!”

“Why else would we meet at the opera?” Linhardt says. “A quiet dinner would be much better for catching up.”

“Not as good for naps, though,” Caspar teases, elbowing Linhardt, who snorts and takes another sip of champagne.

Ferdinand glowers at the pair. “Don’t even  _ think _ about sleeping through Dorothea’s performance! She’s been working very hard and this opera is one of my absolute favorites–”

“Every opera is one of your absolute favorites, Ferdie,” Edelgard reminds him lightly, smiling. “And speaking of, we should make our way to our box, don’t you think?” She and Ferdinand exchange a look, but it passes too quickly for Hubert to decipher. “Hubert, if you don’t mind escorting me?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” he says, offering his arm and leading her to the imperial box. “I’m surprised your lesser half isn’t with us this evening.”

She laughs, a tinkling thing, precious and beautiful. “Oh, at least try to be nice, Hubert. I know it does not come naturally to you.” He chuckles, and she leans into him a bit. “It’s a surprise for them, too. But… I wanted one night just for us. We’ll have a grand brunch tomorrow, and Byleth will find out about our guests then.” He understands that well enough. Years of working alongside Byleth had sufficiently shifted the dynamic between them and Edelgard, Hubert, Ferdinand, and even Bernadetta, to an extent. For the others, though, he expects it’s hard to see them as anything other than their former professor.

“Well, I won’t complain. In any case, I think it’s our turn to surprise them with a class reunion, yes?”

“Absolutely. I knew you’d see the heart of it.” Edelgard’s looking up at him, thoughtful. “You’re happy, Hubert.”

“You don’t need to sound so surprised.”

“I knew that  _ if _ we managed to catch you off guard, you’d be pleased. I just… didn’t expect this. You’re practically glowing.” He feels himself go pink, and she squeezes his arm. “It’s not a bad thing. I’m glad. You deserve this.”

He hums, to give himself more time to formulate a response. “I… suppose I didn’t realize, until I saw everyone again, that I had. Missed them.”

“Hubert.” He recognizes her tone, and looks her in the eyes. She’s deadly serious, frowning just slightly, and her voice carries a weight to it. “You’re allowed to miss them. You’re allowed to  _ want things _ .”

It’s a conversation they’ve had countless times. At least by now he’s accepted she’s right, even though his instincts tell him otherwise. “As you say, Your Majesty,” he answers noncommittally, and she sighs, but he’s saved from her rebuttal by their arrival at the box.

Edelgard takes her seat at the front of the box, and before Hubert can seat himself–-in the back row, as he tends to do–-Petra all but runs to snag a seat in front. Hubert frowns and settles himself behind her so he can lean forward to speak to her.

“You seem eager to see the show.”

Her shoulders tense marginally, then relax. Interesting. “Dorothea has much excitement to be performing again. I am only trying to show her support.”

“Of course,” Hubert says, heavily steeping his tone in doubt. “Just… support. And I’m sure there’s nothing else to report.”

Petra sniffs disdainfully. “I do not have to report anything to you, I do not think.” He waits, patiently, and she sighs. “There is nothing to  _ report _ ,” she whispers. “But I can tell you, as a friend.” He cocks his head for her to continue. “There may be some… newness to our relationship.”

Hubert can’t stop his smile. “Oh? Do go on.”

“I will not,” she hisses. “And you will not tell  _ anyone _ . It is all still… quite new. And different. We are getting used to it.” She stares at the curtain, as if she can see right through to where Dorothea is making last minute preparations. “It is different. But good. And we are not ready for everyone to know.”

“Naturally,” he assures her, and with that, all the tension finally leaves her shoulders. “I understand perfectly. And I think that’s wonderful, Petra.”

“It is,” she says softly as the rest of their party arrives. Ferdinand slips into the seat next to him and links their hands together, beaming, and Hubert allows joy and love and  _ peace _ to swell up in his chest as the orchestra tunes up and the lights dim.

* * *

The opera is wonderful, and Dorothea performs with the nuance and grace expected of a former primadonna. They meet her backstage after the show, and Petra runs to her and lifts her into a spinning hug. When he looks for it, Hubert can see the change in their relationship–-the pinkness on Dorothea’s face that she could excuse as a result of the stage lights, the way Petra’s touch lingers. He stands by his earlier assessment; they make a good pair.

Dorothea graciously accepts the praise and congratulations of their classmates–-Ferdinand is still teary-eyed and perhaps overly complimentary, and she laughs and teases him–-but when her attention finally turns to Hubert her gaze sharpens. “Hubert von Vestra,” she says seriously. “Standing to the side? It almost seems like you aren’t happy to see me.”

He bows, exaggerated. “Forgive me, Lady Arnault. I was distracted by your  _ ethereal _ beauty and the glory of your performance on the stage–”

“Why do I feel I’m being mocked,” Ferdinand mutters.

Dorothea’s eyes glimmer. “Hubie,” she says softer as she moves in to wrap him in a hug. He’d forgotten how warm her embraces are, and she stays for maybe a bit longer than necessary, rubbing his back and swaying a bit. She only pulls away enough to see his face, and she studies him carefully. “You’re tired.”

“I’m always tired.”

“Mhm.”   
  


“For what it’s worth, your performance was  _ very _ energizing.”

She waggles her eyebrows at him. “Don’t let your  _ boyfriend _ hear you say that.”

Hubert groans as Ferdie protests, “I’m right here! I can hear everything you’re saying!”

“Write me more frequently,” she says, patting him on the cheek, “and I won’t have to tease you so much next time we meet in person.”

Hubert raises a brow. “Point taken. Apologies, Dorothea.”

“Accepted,” she says breezily, finally pulling away. “It’s good to see you, Hubert.”

“And you,” he murmurs, as the conversation continues.

They decide to walk home, the night being clear and pleasant, and it’s a trick to get the guards to let up but Dorothea finally snaps, “For saints’ sake, every one of us is a decorated general and  _ half _ of us are proficient mages. We can handle ourselves,  _ thank you _ ”, and that, along with Hubert and Edelgard’s dismissal, convinces the guards to let them escort themselves back to the palace.

They meander down the street and tell tales and are maybe too loud, but for once Hubert doesn’t care about the attention they draw. Their excitement is infectious, and they feed off each other, glowing with a brightness that rivals the moon overhead. Again, that warmth spreads through Hubert’s chest, and he’s  _ content _ , overwhelmed by the rightness of the eight of them in one place, lighter than they’d been since their years at school. He wants to bottle this feeling and keep it, somewhere he can pull it out to remember when his fight gets wearisome, because it is moments like this that he fights to protect.

Ferdinand walks arm-in-arm with him and snuggles into his shoulder, and they lag behind the others a bit. He, too, is making Hubert’s heart flip in his chest, his presence also overwhelming him with a sense of rightness. Without thinking, he murmurs, “Thank you,” and Ferdinand looks up at him and blinks.

“Oh?” he asks, a slow smile blooming on his face. “What have I done to earn such rare praise?”

“Don’t be coy,” Hubert mutters, and Ferdinand hums innocently. “I-I truly appreciate you putting this all together.” Ferdinand is quiet, watching him, so he continues. “This was… a pleasant surprise. It is good to see them, of course, but more than that, if I’d known to expect them…”

“I know,” Ferdinand says simply. “You would have run yourself ragged preparing and ensuring security and then for their entire visit you’d fret about one thing or another. This was the only way to make sure you actually relaxed and enjoyed yourself for once.” His voice turns sincere, weighty. “You deserve this, Hubert. You deserve a break, and you deserve to know that all these people care about you.”

The sentiment is hardly a new one–-Ferdinand expresses something in this vein at every opportunity–-but coupled with the sound of his friends’ voices, the starlight, the lingering feeling of joy in his chest, the love that clenches around his heart, it is too much. He doesn’t think, he just  _ knows _ –-who Ferdinand is, who  _ he _ is, what they are together, what Ferdinand does to and for and because of him, and it’s all so much, and he doesn’t need to think about it, so he doesn’t. 

He says, simply, “Marry me.”

Ferdinand stops cold, bringing them to a halt, and cold panic is already seeping in to replace the warmth he’d felt all night. He watches, filled to the brim with  _ dread _ , as Ferdie’s face goes through a series of expressions very rapidly before settling on a sort of grimace. He works, as quickly as he can, to roll the conversation back. “I-I did not-I only–”

“ _ Damn _ it,” Ferdinand says, sounding frustrated, and Hubert blinks. “Oh-after I-and-oh! Terrible man! All my work-oh, and of course you knew!”

Hubert has absolutely no idea what’s happening. “I beg your pardon.”

“Oh, don’t play dumb! I worked so hard to keep it secret, but of course I couldn’t count on your people not to tell you, I don’t know why I even bothered to ask–”

“Tell me  _ what _ ?”

“Stop that! You clearly know already, and you’re determined to-make a  _ fool _ of me–” He breaks off, looking distraught.

“Ferdinand, please, I have  _ no idea _ what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, yes, of course you don’t,” he snaps, though his voice wavers. He’s digging around in his pocket for something, urgently. “You can keep saying that, if you think it will actually convince me. Here,” he says, pulling a small box from his pocket and shoving it at Hubert. “See it for yourself.”

Hubert’s heart stops, then restarts, beating at a breakneck pace. He steels himself for a moment and opens the box, but the sight of an actual honest-to-goddess  _ ring _ is still too overwhelming and he shuts it again immediately. He screws his eyes shut and takes several steadying breaths before he looks again, and even though he can actually bear to look at it for more than an instant he still has to snap the box shut before he faints.

Ferdinand is pinching the bridge of his nose and saying, “Oh, I had such great plans-a nice dinner, and then a walk in the garden–”

“Ah,” he says, choked.

“It was going to be something  _ nice _ , Hubert, but you had to go and–” He finally meets Hubert’s gaze, which he can only assume looks absolutely dumbstruck, and all his frustration seems to sap right out of him. “Ah.”

“Ferdinand,” he whispers, “I swear to you, I had  _ no idea _ .”

“Oh,” Ferdie says. “I-see. Yes. I see that.” He rubs his face with his hands and groans. “Oh, now I’ve really-this is a disaster.”

“It always is,” he says, as if humor will make this situation any less mortifying.

“Wait-but then-you–”

“Hey!” Caspar calls, and they both turn, wide-eyed, to see that their party has gotten far ahead of them and come to a halt to wait for them to catch up. Hubert doubts they’d be able to see in the dark, but he hides the box behind his back anyway. “You lovebirds alright?”

“Just fine,” Hubert calls, hoping he comes across as normal. Ferdinand is in no state to say anything, staring at him like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. “We’ll be right up.”

“Honestly, you two,” Dorothea teases as Hubert all but drags Ferdinand into walking again, and though they fall in step with their classmates they still hang back just a bit.

“Hubert,” Ferdinand whispers, “you–”

“I meant what I said,” he says gravely. “I-would like you to marry me. Very much.” He chances a look at Ferdinand, who’s red all over and gaping like a fish. “And it seems you’d like the same, so–”

“Absolutely not! I’ll have my proposal,  _ thank you _ , and it will be lovely and romantic and you will enjoy it–”

“I’m certain I will.”

“And you’ll say yes,” Ferdie says, suddenly shy. He peers up at Hubert through his lashes. “Won’t you?”

He can’t help but tease. “Well, I won’t ruin the surprise for you.”

“Terrible man,” Ferdinand murmurs, leaning into him. “I suppose I’ll just have to wait and find out.”

“I suppose you will,” Hubert says, casually, as if his heart isn’t dancing for joy in his chest. “And you’ll need the ring back, at some point.”

“I-Yes! Give that back!”

He laughs. “Later.”  _ Later _ . Hubert wants this moment, surrounded by his friends, his  _ family _ , and all of the stars, to just be. The rest can come later.

They have the rest of their lives, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: baron falke is one of my ocs dad! i needed a name and he works well enough
> 
> ANYWAY i hope you all enjoyed. i love these two and they deserve the world and EACH OTHER so. yeah.
> 
> talk to me on twitter @atinygayfrog! leave a comment telling me what you liked! and most importantly thanks for reading and have a marvelous day!


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